“Any idea what?”
They shake their heads.
I think about this a moment. “I want someone tracking Leon Natali’s location at all times. Eventually, he’ll slip up and lead us to Ida.”
“What about Isabella?” Dante asks innocently.
I glare at him, daring him to say something else. He just waggles his eyebrows.
There are more than a few questioning looks between us when I stand up.
“Leave Isabella Natali to me.”
6
ISABELLA
If the doors of the Harlem Prince’s Hand Casino could shatter from ruthless entry, the glass would be all over the lobby floor. But my dramatic entrance is somewhat marred by the soft close feature.
Nonetheless, the few who are around to see me arrive stare openly, jaws dropping as I march right up to the reception counter.
Perhaps it has something to do with the fact I’m still wearing my dress from the night before. Or that the skirt is split straight up my leg from where I ripped it falling down the side of the Plaza Hotel.Or that I look like I’m about to murder someone.
“Where is he?” I snap at Simon.
He immediately puts the phone down, shock causing his hands to fumble. “Isabella!”
I don’t have time for this.
I walk past with a wave of my hands, bypassing the security gate with my middle finger raised at the guard, who makes a valiantstep forward to stop me. He must be new, or else he has a death wish.
Storming through the casino floor, I note the usual crowd of gamblers huddled around the slot machines where they’ve likely been stationed since the night before. Unlike the staff, who I can sense whispering behind my back, they don’t look up as I pass.
It’s usually quieter in the mornings, and a part of me is grateful not to be making a complete spectacle of myself. But I’m sure the gossip will reach everyone in an unfairly short amount of time.
The premium poker rooms are unusually empty as I slip by, but will likely fill up again before nightfall. From there, it’s only a couple of swinging doors to the backrooms. Each bears a more aggressive “staff only” sign that I dutifully ignore.
Finally, I punch in the code to the door that will lead me up to the mezzanine that overlooks the casino floor.
My brother's favored meeting room allows him to stare down at his domain through eight inches of reinforced bullet-proof glass.
I make it halfway down the corridor toward it when the door is wrenched open.
“Isabella!”
Leon Natali looks like he hasn’t slept. His usually perfect dirty blonde hair is sticking out at odd angles, and it seems he’s worried his tie all the way off, revealing far too much chest to be considered proper.
“Jesus, Leon. You look like a pimp.” I roll my eyes as I approach.
The worry and relief in his eyes instantly give way to annoyance. “Have you seen yourself?”
“Still prettier than you, though.” I give his cheek a squeeze and he immediately tries to swat my hand away.
“What the hell happened, Issy?”
I glance over his shoulder into the meeting room and groan at the sight of my brother's assembled council.
“Nothing I couldn’t handlemyself,” I bite back. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is?” I say, gesturing behind him.
